Fairies, Fish, and Kitties too
by Raphi-girl
Summary: Sam just really needed a break. He knew it wasn't Dean's fault, not really, but he really just wanted a break. Mild drug references. Rated for language.


Sam really needed a break.

It wasn't the overwhelming amount of hunts on there plate. Honestly, it wasn't. Sure, this was the third hunt this week, but it wasn't the hunts Sam needed a break from.

It was Dean.

Five days, thirteen hours, nine minutes, and some odd seconds ago, he and Dean were on a simple hunt, a ghost was haunting the family of the old home, blah blah blah, it was a textbook case. It wasn't even the damn ghost that hurt anyone. They burned the old diary (if Sam heard one more Bridget Jones' Diary pun he was going to shoot his brother), and were headed out the door.

Dean just had to fall down the stairs.

So, here it was, five days, thirteen hours, twelve minutes and some odd seconds later, Sam was working this case solo while Dean was back in there motel room.

Stoned on pain killers.

Dean was locked in the motel room, with a herniated disk and a bum knee, stoned on Percocet (though Sam didn't understand why because Dean had been on it before), and Sam was almost done with this hunt.

As it was, all he had to do was sneak the body of one Miriam McGinnis out of the morgue, into the trunk of the Impala, then a simple salt and burn. Sure, it sounded like a lot of work, but he'd been doing this for how long now? Pfft, this was a piece of cake.

He just didn't want to go back and deal with his stoned-off-his-ass brother.

Sam had just reached for the handle on the cold chamber when his phone got a text message.

"I swear to God, if this is you texting me, Dean, I'm gonna slap you." The tall man muttered darkly as he pulled the phone out of his back pocket.

_ 'Samey i gote a clu 4 on thee casee'_

_ 'What is it?' _he sent in response, then placed the phone on the table so he could use both hands.

The last time Dean had hallucinated (fucking ghost sickness), he didn't go with the flow where his brother was concerned and it only got him a crying, sobbing, snot-covered, acting-like-he-was-five-and-just-got-his-favorite-toy-taken-away big brother.

Definitely best to humor him.

"And I told Jake, if you can't take the sight of a dead body, then why did you apply for a job as a Mortuary Assistant?"

"God, kids these days, Mae! They can handle death and gore in their video games, but one look at an open chest cavity and they're either head first in a trash can or passed out in the floor!"

Fuck.

_** "He toss my salad like his name Romaine~!"**_

Dean was a dead man.

Sam dove for his phone, muttering "shut up, shut up, shut up!" as the voices came closer.

"Did…did I just hear Nicki Minaj?"

Fucking Dean and his fucking sense of humor and his fucking changing Sam's ring tone and he was so fucking dead once Sam got a hold of him fucking fuck!

The tall, frustrated man clicked talked and hissed into the receiver, "What?"

"SAMMY!"

"Fucking hell, Dean! What do you want?!" Sam snapped squatting, laying down on the floor as a shadow appeared outside the door.

"Shit, Sammy…Tinkerbell is on my shoulder!"

"Why does this matter, Dean?!"

"She-she wants to fuck in the hot tub…but…but Ariel is over there in the lake…she said she'd show me all about why-why it's better down where it's wetter!"

Sam took a quiet, deep breath as the door opened and the two morgue attendants walked in. Please let his brother figure this out on his own. Please please please please-

"W-w-what do I do, Sammy? I…I can't decide! The blond in the leaf or the red-haired half fish chick?"

Fucking Dean and his fucking need to trip down stairs and end up getting prescribed a medicine that should take the fucking pain away, but instead makes him turn into a fucking needy, whiny, hallucinatory mess.

"Sammy?"

_'Please Dean shut the fuck up until these chicks are gone…'_

"Huh? I swear, I could have heard someone in here…"

"Lynn, there's nothing, but corpses in here. You probably heard something from farther down the hall."

"Sammy! Answer me! S'important!"

"There it was again!"

"…I heard that too…did it sound like someone was saying 'Sammy' to you?"

_'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-'_

"S-Sammy! I-I gotta go! Like number two man!"

"Hey! Is somebody in here?!"

Sam, with shaking hands, dropped his phone. In his silent, mad scramble to make as little noise as possible...well…

He hit the speaker button.

"SAMMY I CAN'T REMEMBER HOW TO POTTY!"

"Fuck me…" Sam groaned, giving up on not being caught.

Sam stood, pasted an apologetic grin on his face, and bolted, slipping past the two women with an ease that belied his size. He was done. He was going to go back to the motel, beat Dean into a coma, then pack up and leave town, maybe hold up at Bobby's for a little while. Let some other hunter deal with this one.

"S-Sammy I don' thinks you should come b-back…" he heard Dean's voice say tearily, "I…I…the kitty messed on your bed…an' it's everywhere…"

"Dean…" Sam growled as he slid into the Impala and peeled out of the parking lot.

"Here kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty! Achoo! See Sammy? Achoo-achoo! My cat allergy s'acting up! He's sittin' there watchin' me an' he's messin' on everythin'!"

"If the fucking 'kitty' messed on any of my clean clothes he's getting neutered."

"Here kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty!"


End file.
